Nantz: We have known each other for many years, but this is the first time you’ve come to me for counsel or for help. I can’t remember the last time you invited me to your house for a cup of coffee, even though my wife is godmother to your only child. But let’s be frank here. You never wanted my friendship. And you feared to be in my debt.

Romo: I didn’t want to get into trouble.

Nantz: I understand. You found paradise in America. You had a good trade, you made a good living. The police protected you and there were courts of law. So you didn’t need a friend like me. Now you come and say, “Don Corleone, give me justice.” But you don’t ask with respect. You don’t offer friendship. You don’t even think to call me “Godfather.” You come into my house on the day my daughter is to be married and you ask me to do murder, for money.

Romo: I ask you for justice.

Nantz: That is not justice. Your daughter is alive.

Romo: Let them suffer then as she suffers. How much shall I pay you?

Nantz: Bonasera, Bonasera, what have I ever done to make you treat me so disrespectfully? If you’d come to me in friendship, this scum who ruined your daughter would be suffering this very day. And if by some chance an honest man like yourself made enemies they would become my enemies. And then, they would fear you.

Romo: Be my friend, Godfather.

Nantz: Good. Some day, and that day may never come, I will call upon you to do a service for me. But until that day, consider this a gift on my daughter’s wedding day.